


Good Grooming is Essential

by sue_denimme



Category: Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-01
Updated: 2012-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-30 11:26:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/331258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sue_denimme/pseuds/sue_denimme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merry performs a small service for Frodo the day after the celebration at Cormallen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Grooming is Essential

It seems incredible that no one has tended to this one small detail, thinks Merry, though he supposes it isn't too surprising. After all, considering that not long ago Frodo's very survival was in doubt, the state of his grooming was probably the last thing on anybody's mind.

However, that is past, and his cousin seems, while not exactly hale and hearty, at least no longer at death's door. And so, wielding a pair of small scissors wheedled from one of the healers, Merry undertakes the task of clipping Frodo's nails.

Frodo acquiesces with his usual grace, though his manner makes it plain that he is only humoring Merry. Merry doesn't care. It's the first time they have spent alone together since Rivendell, really, and with Pippin asleep and Sam helping repair some of the orc damage to the nearby foliage, the opportunity could not be missed.

"Really, Frodo, you could take down a cave troll with these," he remarks lightly as he carefully pares away another crescent. "What happened to your nail scissors? I know you packed a pair."

"The orcs took them, I suppose," Frodo says quietly.

Merry curses inwardly, finding himself at a loss for words. Apologizing would only call more attention to it. He bites his lip and silently continues. When he has finished with the left hand, he reaches for the right without thinking. Frodo hesitates, but allows it.

Thumb, index, middle. And where the third finger should have been -- a hole.

Merry barely stops himself from gasping, and is thankful that Frodo has turned his head away -- so as not to have to see his expression, he guesses. He had seen it when it was covered with bandages, of course, and he had registered last night at the feast that the bandages were gone. But this is the first time he has seen it up close.

It is jarring, scabbed, ugly. Merry feels his stomach turn over. He looks up, to find Frodo's face, or rather his profile, staring fixedly at the canvas wall as if trying to bore a hole into it with his eyes. And he realizes that Frodo is ashamed.

There is only one thing he can think to do. He raises his cousin's bony, shriveled, still-beautiful hand, and firmly presses his lips to that horrible gap.

"I love you, you silly Baggins," he says.

Frodo doesn't move, but Merry fancies he sees a softening in that closed expression.

Briskly, he gets back to business. "I wonder if those orcs had ever seen nail scissors before," he says. "I can't imagine what they might have thought they were. But maybe they'll have figured them out by now. Maybe now that the war is over, they'll open up a manicurist's shop."

The last paring falls, as Frodo finally turns to look at him, with the most incredulous expression of shock Merry has ever seen on his face, or at least since the revelation of the Conspiracy.

And then Cormallen rings with laughter.

 

~end~


End file.
